


Battlefields

by Merfilly



Series: Future in Peril [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 17:30:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time has passed since the Autobots got the first warning of the coming invasion, and Megatron is contending with its arrival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battlefields

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Pushing On](https://archiveofourown.org/works/368708) by [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly). 



> A warm thank you to Ilyena_Sylph for the beta and to Femme4Jack for the universe.

Starscream had personally seen to the training and modifications imparted to the up and coming Seekers. The four salvaged sparks had been fitted into frames of his own design, tweaked by his memory of the Terran jets and shuttles for certain advantages the organic race had discovered for their aerial frames. With war fading from the recent memory banks, Starscream was actually finding fulfillment in being the leading mind of Cybertron, pushing every experiment he'd ever dreamed into place, all while guiding the four new mechs to be the future of his class.

If he had kept his treacherous nature closer, he might have seen the signs of their contamination earlier. As it was, Skywarp's reaction to the pain on the trine bond might have been the only reason Starscream made it out of the attempted betrayal still activated.

It was Thundercracker who had to report to Megatron that Starscream's injuries would require a lengthy stasis in a C.R. tank, and that the Aerial Commander's attackers were nowhere to be found.

`~`~`~`~`

_Your warning was well-placed, but sent so long ago that some had forgotten. Forces are building beyond the heliopause of the system, and infiltrators are broaching the defenses. We have forces in place, but I refuse to allow this engagement to drain what resources we've built, brother. Bring your warriors, and let us catch them in the middle._

The message cut itself off, and Optimus Prime looked at his assembled officers. Chief Medical Officer First Aid was looking ill at ease, while Security Chief Ultra Magnus had a shrewd look of concentration. Spec Ops Leader Jazz was motionless, the visor dimmed; he was calculating the likelihood of a dual fronted war, no doubt. Tactician Chief Trailbreaker had already begun tapping data and thoughts into his pad, working out logistics. None of their human counterparts were present for this, as it was so far a Cybertronian affair.

"Optimus, perhaps you would consider recalling Ratchet?" First Aid inquired. "I have experience, yes, but it is likely I will be needed by my gestalt."

"Negative, First Aid," Optimus told him. "I prefer to have Wheeljack assume the medical duties here, and take you and your brothers with us, for the sheer fact they are quite proven at defending a field triage site while you work, even without your arm for Defensor."

"Guessing Ironhide's out too?" Jazz asked, just to clarify.

"Yes." Optimus Prime was not going to recall the pair from Earth where they were enjoying their first peace-time vacation ever as a bonded pair… for Ratchet, his first ever, period, given that he had onlined in his present form as a war-time medic.

"Three fliers capable of transporting ten mechs each," Trailbreaker said. "Multiple trips, attempt to perfect the space bridge, or just that many going?"

"I'd say twenty of us would be enough, Optimus, given the data attached to the Protector's message," Ultra Magnus advised. "We don't want to strip our own system's defenses, and they'll still have the smaller non-sentient ships here, in case of attack. Most of us have adapted the modifications Que instituted to better maneuver and handle space without stripping to protoform."

"I concur. Path Finder will stay in Terran space, as Scattershot is more adept in battle." Optimus Prime looked around the table, and four mechs nodded in agreement, though First Aid still worried. "Ultra Magnus, you have Sky Lynx. Choose your nine. I will take Scattorshot, First Aid and his brothers, plus four more."

"Prime…" Ultra Magnus immediately objected, a microsecond ahead of Jazz.

"No. Cybertron's people are mine as well. I will not fail to answer this call."

"Then…" Ultra Magnus drew himself up straight. "I request you instate your successor with at least partial responsibilities prior to us leaving." He knew Hot Rod was ready, even if his entire cohort wished to allow Hot Rod more freedom to just be himself. He already had in mind to invite the one-time Decepticon gestalt of the Predacons to come with him, if only so they and Grimlock would stop getting into fights.

Optimus smiled, his faceplates shifting rapidly from their serious set. "I already planned to."

`~`~`~`~`

"What does this change?"

Daniel, now a young man, though ages meant so little to the changed humans, was sprawled over the chestplates of the newly renamed Rodimus Prime, his fishing pole forgotten. The sun beat down on them, making Roddy regulate his metals to keep from scorching the only companion that had ever seemed to grasp just who and what he was to the core of his being.

"I might be busier," Roddy said at last, having mulled the question over. "And my systems are still realigning with all the extra coding. But… cohort, ya know?"

Daniel shifted onto his stomach, and looked up at the mobile expression. "You're scared of it too."

"Terrified."

"Optimus will come back!" Daniel said fiercely, before making as much of his skin touch Roddy as he possibly could.

"He has to," the new Prime said, believing in that, even if he was prepared to do as he ought and live up to his new responsibilities for the Terran system. At least Springer and Sandstorm had stayed, to give him support when Ironhide and Ratchet found out that Optimus had gone to war without them.

`~`~`~`~`

Megatron was not impressed.

The swarm of nearly thirty small to mid-size drones had presented him with an opportunity to at least exercise his temper and battle skills. They were intent only on destruction, forcing their way ever closer to the temple. The Flights were keeping sharp watch on the invasion force just outside their system, leaving the protection of their world to those Autobot and Decepticon forces on the ground. Where the drones had come from was a mystery that Scion was trying desperately to determine, as they were wary of more waves depleting their energies before the Flights even had a chance to engage in battle above.

A snarl erupted from the war mech as he realized he had torn through most of the swarm, and then five more appeared. These approached with something resembling strategy and an array of weaponry that buzzed all of Megatron's awareness with the alien nature of energy powering them. Megatron shook the last of the drones off his spear hand, flicking it in the path of the closest one, and watched as it impassively blasted the wreck out of impact range.

Megatron did not want to give thought to how much more suited to war these invaders were, if that was their normal method of combat.

::A ship got past Dirge, and it landed near the temple! Fast scout!:: Scion belatedly reported.

::They have found their destruction, I assure you,:: Megatron growled over the comm before shutting his aide out, letting himself fall into the full thrall of the battle.

Warnings were damped, ignored for the most part, as Megatron's focus became that which he had made of himself. He was living destruction, intent on survival of the very fittest, with all the power in his own grasp. At this level, he could stamp out that weakness of compassion infecting him from Optimus's side of their forging, long enough to make certain not a single one of these defilers got near the temple.

Motion, counter, thrust, fire… this dance was one that Megatron knew all the steps of, and executed it with the primal grace of his heritage. One by one, the warriors met their ends, torn or blasted apart, their foul energies twisting at him when their darker energon spattered across his armor, their fields entangled in his and whispering promises of great power. 'Come to us, be with us' flicked through him on so many frequencies as he fought them, combating the pulse of Cybertron's cry to him for protection.

His roar of anger at the attempted manipulation //never anyone's *bitch*!// carried him through the fourth warrior's deactivation, ripping it two parts with his spear and bare hand before he whirled and leveled the cannon on the fifth, final one that had hung back, directing the others. The armor on it was different, flaring open at the joints and around the throat like a native Cybertronian. Maybe that checked the impulse to fire on full.

Maybe it was the brush of fields that sizzled with native harmonics being harshed by alien interference.

Maybe it was the fact that the faceplates were twisted in pain, revealing lines that were all too familiar.

"Damn your spark, brother," Megatron growled, firing at a non-vital system at lower power to incapacitate their long-lost, presumed-destroyed tactician.

`~`~`~`~`


End file.
